Hi, My Name is Sean (Not Seen).

“Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years.  We grow old by deserting our ideals.  Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.” 

~Samuel Ullman

I’d like to thank my parents for the name.  It’s nice.  Like my nose, I never appreciated its true character until I was old enough to understand that looking or being like anyone else is the worst possible purgatory.  

Last week, I penned the most significant thing I’ve thus far written.  Not the best, but certainly the most monumental.  

It was a letter to lift my family from one hilltop to the next.

Three years ago, Daisy and I left our jobs.  We were working too long, not moving forward, and needed life to graduate. 

We opened a preschool.  Daisy left her job at the school district, I left mine at the flower shop.  Daisy was leaving security, benefits, and a full classroom.  I, my family and the daily soul food of a million petals (The shop is gorgeous.  Flowers EVERYWHERE).

Our tiny school is wonderful, but it’s impossible to move forward if we cannot ever take a step.  Workdays are ten hours, plus set up and tear down; five days a week, with no vacation outside a long weekend, for the last three years.  

During this time, the children (students) are constantly learning.  No television, ever.  The children get music, math, reading, and writing, and all of it’s fun.  Computer time is given to every student two years and over.  We do an outstanding job, but it is positively exhausting. 

A lot of comments have questioned how I balance family life with writing.  Presently, not well.  Not as I should.  

That’s what this is about.

I write when my children sleep, or on the weekend.  This means sleeping at midnight, and wearing the Macbook as permanent weekend accessory.  

Neither is acceptable.

Daisy and I are closing our small family preschool at the end of this year; hitching the wagon with the young ones, and heading into frontier. 

My heart tumbled as I wrote the farewell.  The week tangled my stomach, as it seemed the sand took longer to slip through the glass.  

Friday evening, we hit send.

Response was fairly immediate, and overwhelmingly positive.  Our parents, though sad, were thrilled for us.

I started this blog as Writer Dad instead of Sean, because I didn’t know where writing would take me.  If it removed me from the families whose lives I am a part of five days a week, I needed to know they’d hear it from me.  Not stumble across it.

I haven’t told them about Writer Dad yet.  Shock precedes awe.  They’ll know soon, and when they do, I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you guys.  

Please be warm, they’re really nice people.

Tomorrow, I’d like to talk a bit about the letter.  It was an important piece of writing, crafted with intent.  I think writers (that should be all of you) will be interested.

Writer Dad

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